


Dancing with Destiny

by IndigoDream



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Aiden & Geralt are friends and u cant change my mind, Alive Aiden, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Creature Jaskier | Dandelion, F/F, Innuendo, M/M, Pavetta leaves with Geralt, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, and you know what? i love him, gay disaster Geralt, god jaskier, i have a niche and i will exploit it yes, this man is a himbo and he doesn't know how to flirt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:46:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26586091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndigoDream/pseuds/IndigoDream
Summary: Aiden drags Geralt to the betrothal banquet of Pavetta, Princess of Cintra, without mentioning any reason why. At the banquet, he barely has the time to talk with the intriguing bard in the corner before everything goes to hell, and back.What the hell is he supposed to do with a princess traveling with him and Aiden now? And what is he supposed to do when the beautiful bard from earlier shows up?--Or: Pavetta hires Aiden to help her flee the Cintran court. A mess follows.
Relationships: Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Pavetta, Pavetta/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 22
Kudos: 81





	Dancing with Destiny

**Author's Note:**

> You know, sometimes, life is like "hey, what if i wrote a fic where geralt tries and fails at flirting with Jaskier during the banquet lmao" but then you need a reason for Geralt to show up, and you develop a whole AU that you're ridiculously into and you just. can't stop yourself from writing it. 
> 
> Yeah, that's like that for everyone right?? 
> 
> Regardless: Welcome to The Pavetta Verse! Gays abound. Also, himbo Geralt rights.
> 
> Enjoy!

The banquet hall is filled to the brim with people, and Geralt resists the urge to walk right back out. Aiden had called in a favour when they had met unexpectedly in a town three hours by horse away from Cintra, and Geralt knows the cost of refusing anything to his brother in law. The Cat witcher may look rather harmless, with his easy smiles and slim figure, but Geralt has trained enough time with him during the winters to know that Aiden can give him trouble if he wants to. It also doesn’t help that he is married to Lambert, who is easily the best of them when it comes to successfully making someone regret something. 

“Don’t look like this is such a pain,” Aiden whispers at his side, tugging on his own clothes, the deep green doublet strange on him. “This is a banquet, with free food and wine, and… well. Arguably horrible company, but at least we are in this together.” 

“Why the fuck am I here, Aiden?” Geralt growls, scanning the crowd with a frown. “You know crowds like those don’t like me. I don’t exactly fit in. The Butcher of Blaviken, remember?” 

“Oh come on,” Aiden waves that away, looking at the crowd as well. “It’s been thirty years. And we aren’t anywhere near that shithole of a town.” 

“Why are we here, Aiden?” It’s less a question this time and more a snarled order, and he gets elbowed for his tone. “Just tell me okay?” 

“The Princess asked for me,” the Cat witcher sighs. “She has a matter of high importance to discuss with me before the banquet, and I thought you could distract at least a few nobles.” 

“My reputation finally comes in handy I see,” Geralt sighs. “What am I supposed to do, draw out my swords and decapitate a few of them?” 

Aiden glares at him. “No, asshole, just fucking talk to them. They are all pretty important lords, they are bound to have contracts for you. I’m doing you a favour as well, so don’t fuck it up.” 

With that, Aiden disappears into the crowd, fitting seamlessly within the swarm of nobles and servants alike. Geralt tries to follow him by sight, but he is quickly mislead by people after people as they all gather in small groups. He can feel some of them watching him, and can hear them whispers about him among themselves. They must not know about witchers’ hearing then. 

“Geralt of Rivia!” A voice greets him loudly, and he turns his head to find himself embraced by Mousesack. 

The mage is an old friend of his, but they don’t often see each other. In fact, Geralt doesn’t often see any friends on the Path. He doesn’t dislike it too much, albeit it does get lonely sometimes. 

“I haven’t seen you since the plague.” He shakes his hand slightly and Geralt smiles back faintly. “How have you been? Your sour complexion has definitely been missed around here. Come, walk with me.” 

By the time Geralt has finally managed to disentangle himself from Mousesack, he has heard all of the intrigues of the court and, like he always does, can’t bring himself to care one bit about it. Of course, the Queen would never let anyone marry her daughter. He has heard about Queen Calanthe, the Lioness of Cintra. She is avidly anti-elf, and definitely not trusting of magic users. 

The Queen is missing from the banquet for now, and Geralt counts himself lucky. He doesn’t quite like royalty, and would rather avoid any kind of noble. They are rarely ever worth the trouble. 

A man is talking to him, and Geralt didn’t listen to the introduction, still searching for Aiden throughout the room, wondering if he’ll ever catch up with the Cat witcher again, when he sees someone more interesting than all the others in the room, princesses and lords be damned. 

Standing against a wall, swirling a glass of wine and looking royally bored, a musician with deep blue eyes is scanning the crowd. At his feet, his lute sits forlorn, but the other musicians are playing some low melody, something that blends in with the noise of the people gathered in the hall. Clearly, everyone is waiting for the Queen’s appearance, except perhaps the princess. 

Geralt ignores the man speaking to him, leaving without another word, and he makes his way to the musician. After all, Aiden has dragged him there, he might as well take advantage of the wine and company. 

He swipes a mug of ale from a passing servant and lets his feet lead him to the musician with tousled hair. On the way there, he can’t help but notice more and more details about him. His lips are a deep red, and it’s possible that some sort of makeup has been applied there. Geralt doesn’t know many men who would wear make up the way ladies and whores in brothels do, but it does pique his interest even more. 

The golden doublet the man wears makes him stand out even more, and if Geralt were inclined to poetry, he would say the musician looks bathed in gold, like a precious jewel. But Geralt isn’t good at poetry, and he is already pretty bad at recognizing his own emotions. He doesn’t even know why he has decided that this one musician is worthy of his attention. It might have to do with how delicate and beautiful he looks, and how still Geralt can feel that there is an undercurrent of danger to the man. It’s a subtle thing, barely a shift in the way his eyes look at the crowd. 

There are many ways of looking at people gathered, especially when they are all this powerful. Nilfgaardians, Cintran, Skelligers… Anyone worth knowing is waiting eagerly to be able to demand Princess Pavetta’s hand in marriage. The musician’s eyes fall on each and everyone of them, and examines everything in a quick glance, before moving on. It is a very subtle look, a careful once over that no one else than a witcher would notice. 

When he is finally in front of the man, Geralt clears his throat slightly, to draw the man’s attention to him, and there is a small smirk on those red lips when the musician’s eyes fall on him. 

“Ah, the famous Geralt of Rivia. I heard whispers that you were in our company tonight, but I couldn’t believe it until I saw you. What a pleasant surprise. I’m not often wrong.” 

Geralt's throat is suddenly dry. There is something special about the bard, something he can't quite put his finger on. Looking directly into the man's eyes, being his sole point of focus, is a new experience for Geralt. It makes something in him want to beg; for mercy or for pleasure, he can't figure it out while prisoner of the man's gaze. 

"Cat got your tongue?" The man grins again. "That's alright, I tend to have that effect on people." 

"Who are you?" Geralt growls the words, trying not to let himself be overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of the man. It's something that he truly has never felt before, and it annoys him, his own inability to figure out what exactly is having him react this way.

"Oh my, what an introduction. I suppose I’ll go first, show you the ropes of socializing with non-witchers.” The man grins and drinks the last of his wine, before putting his glass on the ground as he bows grandly. “I am Jaskier, humble bard at your service.” 

“Jaskier.” The name rolls on Geralt’s tongue nicely, and he shivers slightly at saying it. There is something he can’t quite wrap his mind around. He is missing something and he knows it.

“Yes,” Jaskier smiles teasingly, standing back up and leaning against the wall again. “That’s my name, dear witcher. No need to introduce yourself though. I already know stories of you.” 

Geralt’s hope that perhaps Jaskier hadn’t known about his surname, about what the people in towns call him, crashes and burns, and suddenly he wants to be anywhere but here. He shouldn’t have let Aiden drag him there. Curse be the Cat witcher, it would have been better to stay in some backwater inn and get drunk rather than come here and get reminded of why he doesn’t mingle with people. 

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s voice is gentle, and his hand falls on Geralt’s wrist delicately. “Is there something wrong?” 

His mouth is open, and the words to rebuke Jaskier are almost out of his throat when they are interrupted. 

“So it is true, we have the Butcher of Blaviken amongst us!” A man, face red with alcohol, is fast approaching them. “You are the beast who slayed that girl, Renfri, and all her men, aren’t you? Butchered them right up on the market place, I heard.” 

The man laughs, and a shadow passes over Jaskier’s face as he lets go of Geralt’s wrist. The absence of the touch makes Geralt feels almost cold, like he had been so close to the sun, and now only the cold light of the moon greets him. 

“Fuck off,” he growls at the man. “I’m not here to talk about it.” 

“Then what are you here for, witcher?” The man snarls as he stops in front of Geralt. “Here to butcher a few more innocents, take the life of another princess? We don’t want none of the troubles you bring.” 

“I told you to fuck off,” Geralt says, and he tries to not reach for his sword. He won’t let himself be baited into being the monster they all believe him to be. 

“Is that the only thing you can say?” The drunkard guffaws loudly. “Witchers, all of you twisted fuckers-“ 

His words are cut off by Jaskier placing himself in front of Geralt. He is as tall as Geralt is, maybe even taller with his slightly heeled shoes, and his back shows muscles and a strength Geralt wouldn’t have guessed from afar. 

“Now, now,” Jaskier says pleasantly. “There is no need to make a scene, this is Princess Pavetta’s betrothal after all. We should all go back to our own occupations.” 

“Piss off,” the man says, and attempts to shove Jaskier away. 

Jaskier doesn’t move an inch. Geralt hears him sigh, sees his shoulders drop slightly and his head tilt. It’s oddly endearing. 

“Really, there has to be a better solution to this than violence.” Jaskier sounds almost disappointed, and the man is staring at him, something like fear in his eyes. “After all, Lord Dunell, you are more than happy to make use of the witchers’ good services when you are faced with monsters. Didn’t you call for one last month? I recall that you had a few nekkers in your woods, wasn’t it?” 

“How do you know this?” The lord is seething now, walking forward and gripping Jaskier by his collar. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Why, I am Jaskier, a traveling bard.” Jaskier doesn’t bow this time, simply nodding his head. “And as such, I hear many stories.” 

Geralt frowns as he sees the lord’s hand tighten on Jaskier’s collar. He steps forward and shoves the lord away slightly, with just enough strength to make him let go of Jaskier. 

“Enough,” Geralt snaps. “This isn’t worth fighting over. You have trouble with me, not the bard.” 

There are more people who have turned to look at the scene now, and Geralt feels their looks on him as if they were burning his skin, drilling holes until they could reach his heart and tear it apart. He has always given too much faith to what people thought of him, he knows that, but ever since Renfri, ever since the whole mess with Stregobor happened, Geralt hadn’t been able to escape his reputation. Everyone knows that the witcher with the white hair is the one who murdered a girl and her men in Blaviken. They don’t know the story behind it, they don’t care that he tried his best to save her, that he had never wanted to harm her. He had wanted to help her. 

He had been so naive.

Dunell snarls and is about to step forward again, a hand on his sword, when someone else comes up and stops him. Geralt recognizes him as Eist Tuirseach, the one Mousesack serves. The one whose nephew is set to marry the princess. 

He has a smile on his face, but his eyes are steel and his anger is palpable. The grip he has on the man’s should is so tight that the clothes underneath wrinkle and the aggressive drunkard winces slightly. 

“I hope you are not causing trouble, Lord Dunell. You know how the Queen feels about causing scenes for nothing.” 

“She isn’t here now, is she?” Dunell snarls as he turns around. “Stop always pretending you are the king of Cintra. She hasn’t fucked you yet, has she? We get it you want to get your dick wet-“ 

The man doesn’t have the chance to say anything else, Eist’s fist is in his face and he tumbles down. Men cheers around them, and Geralt feels a hand tug on his elbow, dragging him backwards and away from the fight that is starting. 

Jaskier looks at him with a gentle smile when they have both retreated at a safe distance, and they watch the drunk lord try to get back on his feet, spewing insult after insult. Eist remains above him, his eyes hard. 

“Thank you,” Geralt says without looking at Jaskier. “You didn’t have to.” 

“And miss my chance to help a good man?” Jaskier scoffs and jostles Geralt’s shoulder in a friendly manner. “Not a chance in the world. Plus, I have heard that story, and it has never sat right with me. You seem more the white knight trying to save everyone rather than the ruthless murderer they are painting you to be. You just need someone to show that to everyone else.” 

Geralt looks at him with a frown. What does the bard even mean by that? 

“A good song, a tune that people could remember and think about when they cross paths with you. Oh and other witchers as well. You are all quite the unlucky sort, aren’t you? Such a shame. I’ve always found witchers to be quite interesting people. Never had a dull day when I crossed paths with a witcher.” 

“Crossed paths with many witchers then?” Geralt is a bit curious now. The bard is… different than he had expected anyone to be. 

“Enough to know that they are mostly good men. And you, my dear, look certainly the part of a good man. Tell me, what are you doing here?” 

“I was invited by-“ 

“Geralt, here you are!” Aiden is back on his side. “You did a wonderful job at distracting, as always. I’m glad to see you made a friend. You must be the bard, Jaskier?” 

“Why, yes,” Jaskier smiles, and bows his head. “Might I enquire about who I have the honour of talking with?” 

“Aiden of Lyria.” The Cat’s smile when he says this is downright sappy, and Geralt rolls his eyes. “You’ll have to excuse my brother-in-law, each time he is reminded that his younger brother found a husband, he gets unbearably grumpy. A real old cat that we have right here, and yet, he is the Wolf between the two of us.” 

Jaskier laughs, a sound that breaks over Geralt like a thousand pearls cascading around him. There is something unnatural about the bard, something too… perfect. Something that Geralt desperately wants to understand, and yet… 

“I find him quite charming myself. But thank you for introducing yourself. It’s an honour to meet you. I’ve had the luck to cross path with your husband not four months ago. Unless you are not married to Lambert of Lyria? Please, excuse me if I’m mistaken.” 

“You aren’t,” Aiden smiles, and is about to keep talking when the doors swing open. 

The Lioness of Cintra walks through, and she is covered in splatters of blood. There are loud cheers as she walks in, and Geralt sees that Eist Tuirseach has regained his seat, and Dunell is nowhere to be seen. 

“Ah,” Jaskier sighs disappointedly. “I fear you’ll have to excuse me, master witchers. As the bard for this banquet, I happen to have to play for Her Highness.” 

Geralt nods, licks his lips. He can’t help himself. “Will you be playing all evening?” 

Jaskier’s impish smile shows his dimples and when he walks closer to Geralt to pass through, his hand brushes the white haired witcher’s. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll manage to find me again. If not you, I will definitely be looking to spend more than a few stolen minutes with such an interesting witcher. Master of Lyria, Master of Rivia…” 

With one last bow, Jaskier leaves their side, and Aiden grins next to Geralt. 

“Shut up.” 

“Not saying anything,” Aiden chuckles. “Though, there are many things to comment on, ‘Master of Rivia’.” 

“Shut up,” Geralt growls again. 

Despite his best attempts, Geralt has to withstand Aiden’s teasing comments the rest of the evening. It goes by easily, if boringly, and Geralt is drinking his fourth goblet of ale, his eyes rarely leaving Jaskier’s form as the bard sings and dances around the room, when the first suitors are announced. 

Aiden tenses at Geralt’s side, and he leans in closer to his brother-in-law’s ear. “Soon, be prepared to get out of here, and fast.” 

Geralt doesn’t have the time to ask what for that the Cat witcher is already disappearing through the crowd. Geralt hates when Aiden does this, and yet, each time, he lets himself be roped into the Cat’s schemes. What one wouldn’t do for family, he wonders. 

He thinks he sees a shadow near the royal table, but he can’t quite be sure. Cat witchers are faster than any other, something in their mutagens allowing them to move faster than anyone else. Geralt has never seen any other cat witcher, but Aiden has more than once laughed that he wasn’t the only one like this. Lambert had seen some more cat witchers though, and he had shrugged when his brothers had questioned him. 

“He’s better than the others.” He had said simply, and then walked away. 

There is an uproar in the room suddenly, and Geralt turns his head to see a knight kneeling on the ground, iron armour shining under the lights of the banquet hall. It isn’t the armour that calls to the eye however. It is the head above it, the one belonging to the knight. It is a hedgehog’s head, and Geralt frowns. A cursed knight, a princess having asked to see a Cat, and another witcher in attendance… Things are starting to look up, and he steps forward, shouldering past many of the guests.

“Guards,” Calanthe roars. “Kill the beast!” 

_Fuck._ Aiden is still nowhere to be seen, and Geralt reaches for his steel sword, almost stepping forward. A hand wraps itself on his elbow and stops him, and suddenly he is thrown to the ground as a yell erupts in the room. 

“Stay down,” a voice whispers in his ear, and Geralt turns his head to see Jaskier standing over him, his eyes glowing unnaturally. His medallion hums, but he doesn’t move anyway. 

“What’s going on,” he asks, a bit breathless, and he doesn’t know if it is because of Jaskier’s presence over him or because he has been thrown to the ground rather suddenly. 

“You’ll have to ask your brother-in-law, Master of Rivia,” Jaskier breathes into his ear, and this time, Geralt knows the shiver that goes through him is definitely because of Jaskier. “I do believe he is the one who instigated this chaos. Now, if you do not mind, I have to step into this mess. Keep what you’re about to see to yourself, will you?” 

His voice, melodious and so low, wraps itself around Geralt as Jaskier’s face shifts, his hair turning long and blond and his eyes green, and he shortens slightly, his outfit turning a blue shade that suits him just as well as the gold had. The magic that thrums through Jaskier tickles Geralt as well, and he feels a another shiver through him, something that makes him want desperately. There is something about Jaskier, something that makes him ache and yearn. He wants to hate it, but his whole body wants it, wants Jaskier around him. 

Jaskier moves up, and suddenly, he is standing in front of the knight, his hands seizing him and his mouth chanting something. The yell is no longer in the room, but there is still chaos running wild through the room, people yelling as wind knocks them back and sends food flying away. And yet, Jaskier and the knight are locked into an unnatural embrace. Geralt can hear something that is none of the known languages on the Continent roar through the room. It makes terror run through his body, and yet, he knows that he will be alright. 

Suddenly, something tugs on his shoulder and he is thrown back upright, almost flying through the room. 

“I told you to be ready to leave,” Aiden growls as he drags him away. “Get fucking moving, damn it!” 

Geralt startles, and moves backward, following Aiden. He has no idea what is happening, but he follows the Cat out of the room, moving as fast as he can. A hooded figure is waiting for them outside, and Aiden wraps his right arm around them, letting go of Geralt, who stumbles and looks backwards. There is an unnatural glow coming from the room, and he tries his best not to go back inside. Jaskier … Jaskier will be alright. He had seemed more than capable of holding up against the Lioness of Cintra and her whole army. 

“Geralt, damn it!” Aiden tugs on his wrist and he starts running again. 

“What the fuck, Aiden?” He asks as they leave the castle. There is another horse next to Roach and Wyvern, a beautiful white mare speckled with brown spots. “Who the fuck is this?” 

“I don’t have the time to tell you right now,” Aiden growls and pushes him to Roach. “Just, trust me on this one, okay? I promise, I’ll explain myself.” 

“Please,” a soft voice says, the hooded figure tugging on Aiden’s hand. “We need to go.” 

Geralt frowns. There is something oddly formal in the voice, and when they hop on their horse, a lock of golden hair falls out of the hood. _Fuck_. He doesn’t say anything though, not now. Aiden isn’t the one to take him on reckless contracts, not without good reasons at the very least, and the princess - if it is her - had asked that they hurry. There will be time to question Aiden later. And questions there will be. 

They ride out of the palace in a hurry, no one stopping them as most of the guards are rushing inside. The only one who tries, Aiden casts Axii on him and the man stands aside, watching them leave placidly. 

The ride through Cintra’s streets is quieter, but the horses are hurried regardless. If it is indeed the princess, then there will be people sent after them soon, and they have to get out of the city as fast as they can. For once, Geralt is glad that they travel lightly, and that their packs are always attached to their horses’ saddles. Briefly, he wonders if the princess has enough for herself, but a quick glance at her saddle and he realizes that she has a small pack as well. So, this was planned. 

Aiden breathes out a loud sigh of relief as they pass the still open gates, and Geralt relaxes a bit as well. Following the Cat’s lead, he hurries Roach to a gallop, and they race through the open fields, avoiding the villages that litter the city’s wall. The night offers them a respite, at the very least, and they let the horses relax somewhat as they trot through a small river, trying to erase their tracks to a certain extent. 

Once they reach a forest and are sufficiently deep within, Aiden has Wyvern slow down, and he turns to the princess, his voice gentle. 

“We will make camp here, your highness,” he informs her, and jumps down from his mount, before helping her down as well. “It won’t be as comfortable as a bed, but it will give us cover and buy us some time.” 

“Thank you, Aiden.” Her voice is quiet, a note of exhaustion creeping through. “And thank you as well, Geralt.” 

She has turned towards him now, and he can see her clearly despite the shadowed moonlight that pierces through the leaves. She is young, fifteen or sixteen at the most, and she is paler than he had thought non-mutated humans could get. Princess Pavetta is small as well, a good head shorter than Aiden and Geralt, but she stands proudly still, despite the circumstances, and she isn’t afraid of meeting his gaze. 

“Of course,” he nods as he dismounts Roach and takes the reins of her horse. “Aiden, I’ll take first watch. Get the camp settled, I’ll take care of the horses.” 

Aiden nods and leads the princess towards a small clearing between the trees while Geralt ties the horses’ reins to a tree branch. He makes sure that it is tight enough that they won’t be able to get away should they get spooked during the night, but loose enough that, if there is truly something wrong, they will be able to get away. He hates the very thought of Roach being hurt. His mare has always served him well, and while she can sometimes be stubborn, she is a smart animal, and he is lucky to have her. 

When he walks into the clearing, Pavetta is seating near a small fire, draped in a large cape that Geralt can recognize as Aiden’s, and she has taken one of the Cat’s daggers in her hand, holding it hesitatingly against her hair. 

“I can’t do it myself,” she finally says, and turns to Aiden. “Please. Will you help me?” 

Geralt watches as Aiden takes back the dagger and starts cutting the hair. Pavetta’s long golden locks fall to the ground, and the princess keeps her eyes closed and her head held high, but the Wolf witcher can see the shaking of her hands. Once again, he is struck by how young she is, and how deeply terrifying this must be for her. Stuck in the woods, with two armed strangers, at their complete mercy… This is what she chose for herself, and Geralt has no idea why, but he finds himself admiring her somewhat. She is brave, there is no denying it. 

Aiden is no expert at cutting hair, and Pavetta’s hair definitely shows it, but the princess smiles graciously regardless, and she thanks the witcher before moving back to a bedroll and laying down, turning herself away from the two witchers. 

They both wait a few minutes before Geralt gestures angrily at Aiden to get over the other half of the fire. 

“What the fuck, Aiden?” He whispers angrily. “Kidnapping the princess wasn’t exactly on my evening’s plan!” 

“She asked me to take her away,” Aiden whispers back, crossing his arms. “Listen, she was desperate and needed a way out of the court. We just need to find her somewhere safe to hide so that she can live her life free from her mother’s influence!” 

“Free from-“ Geralt stops himself from yelling and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Aiden, she is a _princess_. We can’t exactly hide her anywhere! The fact that she is with us puts a bounty on our head. Do you get that, or do I need to draw a fucking picture?” 

“I forgot how much of an asshole you could be,” Aiden rolls his eyes. “I’m well aware of that. She is a kid though. Look at her! She was going to be married off, if we didn’t intervene.” 

“What about the hedgehog knight, one of your distractions?” 

Aiden sighs and passes a hand through his hair, something like sadness crossing his eyes. “No. That was Duny, Pavetta’s former lover. He… He tricked her. Made her think he loved her, and made her think she was everything to him, but… She has reasons to doubt that. She talked about a prophecy, about him only wanting her for what she could give him… She was desperate, Geralt. She needed our help.” 

Geralt groans and moves away, pacing for a few minutes. When he turns back to Aiden, the Cat witcher is watching him intently. “There is no pay that goes with this contract, isn’t it?” 

The grimace on his brother-in-law’s face is answer enough. “Damn it, Aiden.” There is no anger anymore in his voice, only resignation, and, if he is honest with himself, fondness as well. It resembles Aiden too much, to take on a contract that isn’t one, simply because he believes that it is the right thing to do. Geralt admires that in him, and he understands why Lambert loves him. If he could only not get Geralt in trouble as well, it would be a nice thing of him. 

“Why did you even need me?” He asks, walking back towards Aiden. “You handled yourself pretty well on your own.” 

“I told you,” Aiden shrugs. “I needed a distraction. Nobody was going to see me sneaking to the royal table if everyone’s attention was focused on you.” 

“Damn it, Aiden,” he repeats. “Couldn’t have told me that as well?” 

“I needed you to come with me, and you wouldn’t if I had told you the truth,” Aiden says shamelessly. “I’m starting to know you, Geralt.” 

Geralt rolls his eyes but he is smiling slightly, and Aiden grins. The Cat embraces him and Geralt sighs and accepts the closeness. Aiden bumps their foreheads together lightly, before going to the second bedroll. 

“Wake me up in a couple of hours, I’ll take second watch.” He waits only until Geralt’s nods to bury himself under his blanket, his breathing evening out quickly enough. 

It’s a marvel to Geralt, the ability that the others have of falling asleep easily. He watches them sleep for a few minutes, pondering on what he has just learned, before turning away and towards the woods, grabbing in his pack a whetstones. He takes care of his swords for a while, making sure that both the steel one and the silver one have sharp edges, and then he starts pacing around the small camp a bit. First watch, or even second watch for that matter, is always dreadfully boring.

It’s much better this way, naturally. If it weren’t boring, then it would mean they were under attack, and Geralt would much rather avoid that. There will be armies coming after Pavetta, armies and knights and so many others he doesn’t want to think about or count. They might even get another witcher to track them down, maybe a Cat or a Viper. Though, he doubts that. If words get by that it was a witcher who helped Pavetta flee, their whole caste will get shit. Fuck, Geralt is not looking forward to the earful that Vesemir is sure to give him. 

There is a movement in the forest, and he frowns, drawing out his silver sword out of habit. Even if it ends up being a human or an animal, it’s better than struggling to draw out his silver sword mid-fight. Better safe than sorry, as Vesemir drilled into them when they were training. He takes a step towards the sound, quiet and calm, and focuses on whether he hears a breathing or something that would signify a human presence. 

A branch breaks under a weight, and Geralt shifts, turning towards where the sound came from. He prepares himself for a fight, and when he finally distinguishes the quiet sound of a breath. He moves forward, only turning back his head to see if Aiden or Pavetta have been awoken, and Aiden is sitting up, a hand on his sword. Geralt nods, and Aiden nods back before moving closer to Pavetta and shaking her awake gently. 

The breathing comes closer, only a handful of meters separating the other from Geralt, and he tightens his hold on his sword. Despite his rather good night vision, he can’t see anyone, and he holds back a growl. He hates those he can sense and hear but can’t see. His medallion is thrumming, so it’s probably a monster. Maybe an arachnas, up in one of the tree?

“What a warm welcome.” A voice chuckles in Geralt’s ear and he whips around, his sword swiping and cutting at a throat. “I hoped for better, to be honest.” 

Jaskier is standing there, looking fondly annoyed, and the gash on his neck is slowly closing itself, no blood escaping. 

“What the-“ 

“Shh, save your question for later, dear,” Jaskier chuckles. “And please, do not run me through with that sword of yours, it would have absolutely no effect.” A mischievous light appears in his unnaturally blue eyes and he steps closer to a frozen in place Geralt, whispering low. “Though, another time, another sword, I wouldn’t say no.” 

He steps back with a grin and turns his back to the witcher. “Come on now! Off to camp for you. You need your rest, after the events of the evening.” 

Jaskier, whatever Jaskier is, starts walking, and Geralt only then realizes that Jaskier _knows_ where their camp is, and might very well know that Pavetta is there. He can’t let the man - creature ? - get there. It would endanger Aiden and Pavetta, and after all the trouble they got to get the hell out of Cintra, Geralt would very much like for that _not_ to happen. 

He shifts, moving in front of Jaskier in a leap, and rises his sword again. “What are you doing here? How did you find us?” 

“So many questions, so very little time. I will explain everything once I have seen my protégée, Geralt. And I told you, your sword will do nothing to me.” 

“What are you?” Geralt doesn’t relent and stays blocking Jaskier’s path. “What kind of creature doesn’t bleed when cut with a sharp blade?”

“Have you considered that perhaps your sword is not as sharp as you think it is?” Jaskier grins again and steps closer to Geralt, and just like earlier when he held him down, Geralt feels desire swirl inside him. He wants to seize Jaskier, to kiss him, and to be completely ruined by him. He wants Jaskier in a way that frustrates him, and yet he feels himself losing the battle slowly. And he _enjoys_ it.

“Don’t play mind games,” Geralt growls. “Who and what are you?” 

Jaskier sighs and he steps back. “If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me. But my name is Jaskier, and I swear that I am not here to harm you. Quite the contrary, in fact. I know that Pavetta is with you. I promise I do not want to harm her. She asked me to come here.” 

“She didn’t say anything of the sort,” Geralt says. “How do I know you are telling the truth?” 

“Take me to her,” Jaskier says. “You can keep your sword to my throat if you want, or anywhere you would like. For some advice, I would consider some nightshade mixed with vampire blood. Helps keep my kind at bay. Or at least… We don’t like it. Though… For you I could make an exception.” 

He winks and Geralt rolls his eyes but keeps the information away for later. “Are you some kind of higher vampire?” 

“You would have seen some blood, would you have not?” Jaskier sighs. “Listen, I just need to see Pavetta. If she doesn’t recognize me, or if she wants nothing to do with me at all, I swear I will leave. On my life.” 

Geralt doesn’t want to trust him, he wants to drive Jaskier away and to keep Aiden and Pavetta safe. Though, despite the thrum of his medallion, he groans. “Fine.” 

Jaskier smiles, triumphant, and starts walking towards the camp again, Geralt walking next to him. 

When they walk into camp, Aiden has his silver sword drown in his left hand and a dagger in the right one, standing defensively in front of Pavetta, who is holding onto his steel sword and shaking slightly. The witcher gives Geralt a strange look, but they don’t have time to say anything; Pavetta lets go of her sword with a loud sigh of relief and she rushes forward. 

“Jaskier!” She throws herself in his arms and he catches her, holding her gently. “Thank you, thank you so much!” 

Well. Now, Geralt is even more confused than before. He exchanges a look with Aiden, and then both return to Pavetta and Jaskier, who are still embracing in between the two witchers. What the fuck is going on? 

**Author's Note:**

> So i know this says Yen/Pavetta but Yen won't show up just yet, although they'll def be a main ship so that's already something? :D 
> 
> Also, unlike my other chaptered fic (Ode to Fury), I do NOT have a schedule for this one, or even an outline. I know how it will go tho, so fear not, it shall be finished... 
> 
> Don't hesitate to leave a comment/kudos! You can also check me out on tumblr (@saltytransidiot)! I also sometimes wander on twitter (@SoftWitchering)! 
> 
> Thanks for reading! See y'all next time!
> 
> EDIT: THE HORSE NOW HAS A NAME


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